


Sir Lancelot in Faerieland

by the_magnificent_sheep



Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_magnificent_sheep/pseuds/the_magnificent_sheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sir Lancelot ran amok around England for two years as a madman. Or did he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sir Lancelot in Faerieland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Icarus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icarus/gifts).



“You asked me to recount what happened to me, during these long two years. I – I think that the time has come that I can begin to tell my story.”  
“I bid you tell, then. Here, I shall fill your cup again.”

“Your kindness to me in this time… I cannot hope to repay it, poor as my body and mind have become…”

“You know that I would do anything in my power to help you, Lancelot. There, now, your cup is full of good wine and there is food aplenty. Come, tell me.”

“I… I can tell you only what I felt, with my own senses. Perhaps my eyes have been deceiving me. I fear that little of my tale is true, at least to the eyes of any man with his wits. Even now it seems to me that my own memory must be false…”

“Never mind that. I know what other men have said about you and your doings. I do not need to hear their words again. I need to hear yours.”

“Very well then. Although perhaps it is folly to speak of such things, I shall tell you, and you alone. Please, once I have told you, do not ask me to recount it again.”  
“You need not ask, Lancelot.”

“I remember the beginning clearly, at least. My senses were keen then, and my body as strong as it ever was. I was riding alone through Pembrokeshire, and I had not seen another man for some days. I was fixing to camp for the night and had already shed much of my armor when I heard a great noise in the distance. It was a high scream, animal in desperation or in pain, and the breaking of branches. Grasping my sword and donning my helm I stood and strode toward the sound.

“Presently a maiden appeared to me, ragged and bleeding from many small cuts on her arms and legs, and her dark hair tangled with twigs. Her eyes were wild, like those of a colt in his first battle, the whites bright in the dim moonlight.

“’Lady,’ I called to her. She startled and her pale lips opened in another scream. I pulled my helm from my head and let my face be made clear to her. ‘Lady,’ I said again, as gently as I could manage. ‘I am Sir Lancelot of King Arthur’s Round Table. What frightens you so?’

“For some moments she seemed shocked out of speech; I feared that she would swoon. But she held still onto her wits and, trembling, she spoke to me.

“’There is a witch in this wood,’ she said. Her speech was fine and of a well-bred accent. ‘She means to kill me and cut my eyes from my head for to use in her evil magics! She has sent a knight in black armor to capture me and drag me to her castle.’ Those same eyes, emerald-bright, now that I could see them, shone with tears.

“’Where might I find this knight,’ I asked immediately, for the prospect of such a fiend did not frighten me and I was as ever eager to fulfill my own knightly duties.

“’He chased me on a horseback for a mile or more through this wood,’ she replied, and my heart was saddened by the sight of her weariness and wounds. ‘He chased me westward and the hoofbeats of his horse only lately faded from my ears.’

“’Do not fear for your eyes, Lady,’ I told her, and led her to my camp. There was not yet food on the fire, but the place was secluded and shielded by trees and stones from the wind. ‘Though it may not be proper, you must stay at my camp tonight. In the morning I shall return and this witch shall be slain.’ And so speaking, I clasped my armor around my arms and legs and mounted my horse.

“I had ridden not a long time when I heard the beat of a horse’s hooves. I checked my own steed, listening eagerly. The sound had seemed far away, and so I was surprised to find the poor animal under me bucking and screaming as if in panic – for the knight had appeared in front of us without so much as a crackle of twigs. I steadied my horse and my own mind, for I have seen sights worse than a stealthy knight.

“’Hold, thou foe knight,’ I said, in the high tongue. “Speak thy name and that of thy lord, or else I challenge thee to honorable combat.’

“The knight answered not in words, but by lifting a hand to his helm, which could only be made out by the lack of color in the dark forest. The knight opened his helm to expose his face – and there did my heart catch in shock, for it seemed to me that I saw not the face of a man, but…”

“Lancelot?”

“Forgive me… I only paused to remember it.”

“You are shivering.”

“It is nothing, no more than memory…”

“Shall we stop the telling and save it for another day?”

“No! No… forgive me. I shall continue.

“The face that appeared to me under the helmet was… I can only assume that it was the face of a demon, some creature from the infernal realms. It had the skin of a man, and a bearded chin and red hair on its forehead… but it had no face. The eye sockets were empty, two black and bloodless holes. The nose was a flat plain, and the mouth was not a mouth at all but a bleeding gash, fetid and crawling with infection. The beard was stained with dried blood. It was… it was as if I had seen a glimpse into Hell.

“I do not know what happened after that, I admit. I fear I must have swooned and lain senseless for some hours, for when I awoke I was in the dank dungeons of a castle. I knew that they were dungeons only by the smell of damp and mold and the coldness of stone walls, for the darkness was complete. I lay, lost and wondering, in a nest of damp hay – I know not for how long. The memory of the phantasm I had seen under the knight’s helmet still lay hot as coals in my mind, and I was afraid.

“Presently the door to the chamber opened and I sat myself upright. I realized then that my sword was not pressed against my hip, and felt from the lightness of my body that my armor had been taken from me. I looked wildly at the intruder, fearing the black-armored demon had come to me when I was disarmed – but it was not the demon. In a halo of light that glowed from a lantern was the visage of a beautiful woman. You must not fault me for thinking her beautiful, for in truth I knew her immediately and would not have fallen in love with such a beauty were I compelled by all angels in Heaven. She was… she was Morgan of Lothian.”

“Morgan!”

“Yes, my love, it was she.”

“But she has been on the throne of Faerie for many long years now!”

“Please, mercy, do not say the name of her realm! I fear – I fear that the word may yet have power over me.”

“Very well. Forgive me, Lance; I do not mean to upset you. Please, continue.”

“She came to me then, footsteps silent on the stone and many jewels glinting in her hair. It seemed to me strange that a queen would come to meet a prisoner in her own dungeons, rather than sending a servant. But I soon learned why she had chosen to favor me with her presence.

“’Lancelot du Lac,’ she greeted me. ‘Good tidings to you, and on your house and your kin.’

“’I know who you are, Lady,’ I replied. ‘And I demand that you release me from this holding.’

“She only smiled, a warm smile that made her pale cheeks appear rosy in the glowing lamp. ‘They say that you are the finest knight in the world, Lancelot du Lac. And that you yet have no fair maiden to favor you with a token to wear on your helm.’

“’That may be so, my Lady, or it may not,’ I said, for I knew now what kind of place I was in and that it would be unwise to speak my mind.

“’Then consider your search to be over,’ she said, and hitched up her red skirts to sit beside me in the hay. ‘For I will make you my king, and you shall wear my token in your helm from this day forward.’

“’I will not,’ I told her. ‘I wear the token of no woman by my own choice, and I am unwed by that same choice.’ Perhaps I spoke too much, for before I knew what was happening I found that she had leaned forward and was kissing my lips, sweetly and gently, but with a grip like no knight I have ever known.

“’You will sit at my side during tonight’s revelries,’ she told me, standing. I stared up at her dumbly, dazed. Her eyes were the color of honey, but her gaze was sharp and not kind. ‘Take comfort in my castle and enjoyment from my people.’

“She swept away then, but within only a few minutes a servant boy entered the chamber, carrying with him garments of brightest green and blue silk. The boy was as pale as a birch tree, and his hair sat almost like gossamer on his head. He held out the clothing wordlessly.

“’Where is my armor and sword?’ I asked him. But he did not answer. I do not know if he was dumb, or if he had been bidden by his mistress not to speak to me. Seeing no other option, I dressed in the proffered clothing, letting the boy take my own dirty garments away with him. Still silently, he led me from the cell and up the black stone steps of the tower. As we ascended I could smell the most delicious aromas, warm bread and sweet meat and spices that I could not name. I heard snatches of music, beautiful and lilting such as I have never heard even from the most talented bards. I soon saw at the top of the stairs the orange glow of a bright fire.

“When at last we entered the hall, such a sight as I could never hope to describe met my eyes. The court of the Good People is a rich one indeed – there was a brazier the size of the longest table in your household, and the fire was so bright as to hurt the eyes. From the tables around it wafted the scents I had noticed earlier, curling up and around me like a spell from all manner of meats, fish, pies, breads, sweets and fruits. There were jugs of ale and wine and a million silver plates. My mouth watered at the sight and I realized that I was ravenous.

“But there was more to the hall than that. The hall was filled with people, more people than I have ever seen gathered at any court in Europe. They were tall, and all of them were beautiful. They were dressed in colors so bright as to dazzle me – the red of a sunset, the palest green of spring’s first leaves, the blue of dawn. There were entertainers in the middle of the room – dozens of acrobats flipping and twirling like leaves on the wind, a great host of musicians playing that haunting tune on harps and pipes. They smiled at me and bowed as I entered, and called me by name, and ten servant boys led me by the hands and elbows to the top of the high table, where sat Morgana herself. Her dress now was the white of a new snow, so bright that I could almost see a myriad colors glistening within it. She stood and curtsied to me, and lead me to sit beside her.

“My stomach felt empty and my head dizzy with hunger, and the company mesmerized me with their beauty. But my wits were with me, or so I thought, and I knew that the land of the Good People was not as kind a place as it seemed.

“’Drink some wine, my love,’ said Morgan, and a small girl with the palest pink eyes poured red wine into a jeweled goblet. ‘Try some pheasant, for it is the best I have ever eaten,” said Morgan, and a boy with skin like ebony handed me a plate of succulent meat.

“But I did not drink, and I did not eat. ‘I will not eat the leaves and twigs of your people,’ I told the lady, and no sooner had I spoken than the food on my plate and the wine in my goblet had lost the Fay glamour put upon them, and my plate was covered in oak leaves and acorns, and my goblet was full of muddy water. The people around us had begun to stare.

“’You insult my people,’ said Morgan, and her voice was like a lowering storm cloud. I stood, and raised my hands to the ceiling above us.

“’By the grace of the almighty God, I bid thee free me!’ I called, and there was a great rumble like thunder, and suddenly it seemed to me that a rusted sword was in my hands. There was a wail, loud and high pitched, and it rose from every throat in the hall like a bursting dam. I felt great heat; the sword scalded my hands, and as I swung it toward the queen’s head my vision went dark. I blinked, terrified that my sight had been robbed from me, and then stilled, for a felt a cold wind on my hair. I looked around me, and found myself on a tor, alone and in tattered clothing. There was a beard on my chin and my hair tangled at my elbows.”

“You were alone?”

“Yes.”

“Lance? Are you crying?”

“I… I know now what happened to me, my love, what my senses were not telling me. For what seemed to me to be a night in the court of Morgan le Fay was two years in our mortal world.”

“Yes, it was.”

“And all of that time I have been a wandering madman, in rags and devoid even of speech.”

“It… would seem so.”

“But do you not see? Do you not understand what that means? I was not in Morgan le Fay’s castle, was I? I was all alone, and I was in my own head… she was in my head.”

“Oh, Lance.”

“I thought I had escaped her castle! But I do not know if I have escaped her grips. She could be in my mind, right at this moment!”

“Come here, Lancelot du Lac. You are breaking my heart. Here, let me wipe your tears away, let me embrace you.”

“Oh, Arthur. I am sworn to protect you, and to protect your kingdom. And now you hold me like a babe, shushing me like a child. How can I forgive myself?”

“You do not have to, for I forgive you already. Do not cry, Lancelot, for you are safe here, and I will protect you.”


End file.
